


The Obligatory Meet-Cute

by gingayellow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingayellow/pseuds/gingayellow
Summary: Sometimes, you meet your true love when he yells at you, then passes out on you. [Shiro/Keith, silly fluff, grad school AU]





	The Obligatory Meet-Cute

Title: The Obligatory Meet-Cute  
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender  
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: Not mine, anything mentioned here by name isn't mine  
Warnings: None  
Notes: Why is every college/grad school/modern AU make Shiro the grad student? I’ll be perfectly honest, Keith’s passionate nature/suborn personality fits grad school a lot better (I speak from experience lol). Anyways, while this won’t be a full series, I do have some other ideas for this verse, and I’m link when/if I write them.

\--

Altea Books was within walking distance of the university, so it wasn’t the first time Shiro had seen a tired college student stumble past their store. It was, however, the first time he’d seen one collapse.

Shiro was lucky enough to have been taking out the garbage—and his fancy prosthetic being sturdy enough to catch the stranger before his head hit the pavement (Shiro would have to thank Pidge later). The garbage bag fell to the ground as Shiro felt the stranger’s forehead. He didn’t feel warm—perhaps he was suffering from exhaustion. “Sir,” Shiro said softly. “I’m going to take you into the shop so you can get some—”

The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on the ground, the stranger looming over him.

The stranger was wobbly on his feet, but his eyes were cold. “Don’t you **ever** try to stop me, ever again,” he snarled.

“I would never,” Shiro assured him. “But you’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

“Rest,” the stranger declared with a weak laugh, “is for losers.”

“Sure, of course,” Shiro said. Whatever would keep him here long enough for Shiro to actually help him.

“I ain’t a loser. This paper is due in an hour, and I’m gonna—” 

Then he passed out, on Shiro this time.

\--

“Thanks for helping me get him in here, Hunk.” They had no spare blankets, so Shiro draped his old jacket over the stranger.

“Enh, it was either that or restock the self-help books.” He poured coffee into three mugs. “So, whaddya think? Is he an undergrad?”

Shiro shook his head. “Undergrads usually have the sense to come in and have some coffee.” The grad students, on the other hand, were much too stubborn for their own good. “Besides, most undergraduates don’t write papers about heterodiegetic narrative parallels in Jane Austen’s juvenalia and early canon.” At least, that’s what Shiro assumed the paper was about. The few bits he’d been bold enough to read had been…clearly written for professors who’d spent the majority of their lives researching a specific topic.

...Speaking of professors. Oh no.

Shiro grabbed the paper, eyes locked on the header. The student’s name was Keith Kogane, and the instructor’s name was Coran Smythe. Shiro whipped out his phone, plugged in the university’s web site, and then did a search for the English faculty’s contact info. Moments later, he was staring as a picture of a mustached man winking at him, with his phone and email listed to the side.

Emailing was possible, but there was no guarantee this Doctor Smythe. _Please be there_ , Shiro begged whoever would listen as he dialed. _Also, please be reasonable._

“Hello?” Someone asked.

“Hi, is this Doctor Smythe?”

“Well, of course! If you’re hoping for extra credit, though, I’m afraid we’re well past—”

“Begging your pardon, but I’m Takashi Shirogane, a friend of a student of yours. Keith Kogane?” This wasn’t actually a lie—he was sure he could be Keith’s friend, given time. “He’s not feeling well, but perhaps I could turn in the paper on his behalf?” Shiro braced himself for the worst.

“Sure!”

“I know I’m not the professor, but he’s passed out, and it’s not fair—wait. What?”

“Well, of course, my boy! It’s a graduate seminar; as long as I get something before it’s time for me to turn in grades to the school everything is fine. Actually, if Keith really has swooned like you said, why doesn’t he just email the thing to me when he feels better?”

“That’s a better idea,” Shiro admitted thankfully. “Sir, could you please email him what you just told me? I know Keith would feel better if it was writing.”

“I’m drafting a message right now. Thank for the assist, lad. Keith’s lucky to have a friend like you!”

Shiro ended the call, leaning back in his chair. Professors were much more understanding than they were when he was in school. Not that he had finished his degree, to be fair. 

He was about to reach for the coffee when the stranger (Keith) woke up with a start, Shiro’s jacket falling to the ground. He was mumbling something about his paper, unlocking his phone quickly—and then leaning against the makeshift pillow Hunk had made by rolling up Shiro’s old sweatshirt. “My life isn’t over.” He gave Shiro a look. “Thanks to someone named Takashi.”

“Shiro’s fine.” Shiro handed Keith a mug of coffee. “It’s probably lukewarm by now, but it’s got caffeine and it’s on the house.”

Keith downed it in one gulp. “Listen. I realize I was being a jerk to you earlier.”

“You were exhausted and stressed. It’s fine.”

Keith shook his head. “I was being a jerk, and you were nothing but helpful to me.” His hair was a sleepy mess, and his eyes were shadowed, but his voice was clear. Warm. Direct. “I owe you a debt, and I will repay it.”

He’d tried to fight off exhaustion so he could turn in a paper, so Shiro doubted a polite ‘no’ would work here. Besides, he kind of wanted to learn more about this mysterious young man who’d literally fallen into Shiro’s life. “In that case, stop by the bookstore sometime and talk to me. Who knows, maybe we’ll have warm coffee next time.”


End file.
